Chapter 27 – The Maid, the Monster, and the Moron

【Valerius PoV】

The next morning, I found myself in the mansion’s rear garden.

Sunlight streamed through the leaves of a massive oak tree. The air was crisp and smelled of damp earth and freshly cut grass. A stone patio served as our training ground. It was all very scenic—a perfect place for my impending humiliation.

“We must first assess the pathetic depths of your current abilities.”

Jin stood with his arms crossed. He wore the same weirdly formal, all-black outfit from yesterday. He looked less like a trainer and more like an undertaker sizing up a new client. Which, honestly, felt pretty accurate.

“Only by understanding the full extent of your weakness can we begin to build something resembling strength.”

“Right. Weakness. Got it. So, what do I do? Push-ups? Run laps until I puke?”

“Nothing so crude. Show me your swordsmanship.”

He gestured to a weapon rack that had been conveniently placed nearby. It held a variety of training swords, all blunted steel. I picked one up. It felt heavy and awkward in my hand. In the game, Valerius was supposed to be a decent fencer. I was not Valerius.

I adopted what I hoped was a menacing stance. I tried to channel every cool anime swordsman I’d ever seen. I probably looked like a constipated flamingo.

“Come at me.”

Jin didn’t move a muscle. He just raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

“You wish for me to be your opponent?”

“Yeah. How else are you gonna see what I can do?”

“Very well.”

He took one step forward. It was a slow, deliberate movement. But the world seemed to shift with him. The air grew heavy again. That oppressive aura from yesterday washed over me, a thousand times more intense up close. My breath caught in my throat. My muscles locked up. The sword suddenly weighed a ton.

My survival instincts were screaming at me. They were all screaming the same thing. Run.

“I see.”

He stopped. The pressure vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I gasped, sucking in a lungful of sweet, non-terrifying air. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.

“Your spirit is fragile. Your body is undisciplined. You have the combat prowess of a startled goat.”

“Okay, ow. A little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I have seen fungi with a more intimidating presence. A direct confrontation is pointless. You would simply freeze.”

He turned his head.

“Clara.”

She was standing off to the side, near a rose bush, holding a silver tray with a pitcher of what was probably lemon-infused water. She had been watching the whole exchange with an air of detached amusement. She was a professional, after all.

“Yes, Master Jin?”

“You will be his sparring partner.”

I blinked. She blinked. Then a slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. It was the kind of smile that promised pain and suffering.

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

She set the tray down on a stone bench. She walked towards the weapon rack, her movements fluid and efficient. She selected a thin, rapier-style training sword. She held it like she was born with it in her hand. This was not going to be a fair fight.

“My lord. Do try to last longer than ten seconds. The staff has a betting pool.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Of course I am, my lord. No one would be foolish enough to bet on you.”

She gave me a mock curtsy, the training sword held gracefully at her side. Her eyes sparkled with malice. Oh, I was in for it now. This was payback for every sarcastic comment, every ounce of trouble I’d caused her.

“Ready when you are.”

Jin stepped back, assuming the role of referee.

“Begin.”

I charged. It was a stupid move, all aggression and no technique. I swung my sword in a wide, clumsy arc. I aimed for her shoulder.

Clara sidestepped the attack with insulting ease. The blade whistled through the empty air where she had been a second before. She didn’t even bother to raise her own sword.

“A bold opening, my lord. Predictable, but bold.”

I growled in frustration and swung again. This time I aimed lower, a sweeping cut at her legs.

She simply hopped over the blade. She landed as softly as a cat. Her smile widened. She was enjoying this. Way too much.

“Your footwork is atrocious. Are you trying to fight or stamp out a fire?”

“Just… hold… still!”

I lunged, putting my weight into a desperate thrust.

Clara deflected the blow with a flick of her wrist. The clang of steel echoed in the quiet garden. The impact sent a painful vibration up my arm. My sword was knocked wide, leaving me completely open.

She tapped the flat of her blade against my chest. It was a light, gentle touch. A love tap. If this had been a real fight, I would have a new hole in my torso.

“And that makes three. Your defense is as porous as a cheap sponge, my lord.”

She danced back, putting a few feet of distance between us. She wasn’t even breathing hard. I, on the other hand, was already starting to pant. My arms ached. My pride was in tatters.

“Is this the best a noble lord can do? I’ve seen laundresses with more fight in them.”

Her words were little needles, each one finding a nerve. I knew she was trying to get under my skin. The problem was, it was working.

I abandoned any pretense of technique. I just started swinging wildly. I was a whirlwind of pathetic, flailing rage.

Clara became a blur. She moved around me in a circle, a phantom in a maid’s uniform. Every one of my attacks missed by a mile. She was too fast, too skilled. It was like trying to swat a fly with a sledgehammer.

“Such passion. Such fury. Such utterly wasted energy.”

She parried a downward slash, her blade catching mine with a sharp ring. She used my own momentum to spin me around. I stumbled, off balance and disoriented.

A foot hooked around my ankle.

I went down. Hard. The stone patio rushed up to meet me. The impact knocked the wind out of me. My sword clattered out of my grasp, sliding across the stones.

The tip of Clara’s rapier came to rest gently against my throat.

I lay there, flat on my back, staring up at her. She looked down at me, her expression a perfect blend of pity and contempt. There wasn’t a single hair out of place.

“The match goes to the maid. Again. Perhaps we should consider a different line of work for you, my lord. Gardening, perhaps?”

Jin clapped his hands together slowly. It was a mocking, perfunctory sound.

“That was a sufficient, if pitiful, display.”

Clara withdrew her sword and offered me a hand. I ignored it and pushed myself up, my face burning with shame. I grabbed my sword and put it back on the rack with more force than was necessary.

“Your movements are dictated by emotion, not strategy.”

“She’s a menace!”

“She is competent.”

“I live to serve.”

The sarcasm was so thick you could have spread it on toast. I wanted to strangle her. I also knew I couldn’t land a single punch. It was a frustrating dilemma.

She turned her attention from my sorry state to the walking god of death standing next to me. A curious, challenging light entered her eyes.

“Master Jin.”

“Clara.”

“That was a fine warm-up. But I must confess, I am curious. I would like to request a match with you.”

My jaw hit the floor. Was she insane? Did she not feel the soul-crushing terror that radiated from this guy? She just toyed with me and now she wanted to fight him?

“You believe you are a worthy opponent for me?”

“Of course not. But I believe it would be an educational experience. For myself, and for my lord. To see what true power looks like.”

It was a bold, almost reckless, challenge. It was also a very clever way to frame it. She was appealing to his ego as a teacher.

Jin was silent for a long moment. He studied her, from the top of her neatly pinned hair to the tips of her sensible black shoes. The air crackled with a strange tension.

“An interesting proposal.”

He gave a slight nod.

“I accept.”

Clara’s confident smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. A flicker of something—nervousness? Fear?—crossed her face before it was replaced by her usual mask of professional composure.

She handed her rapier to me and picked up a pair of blunted training daggers from the rack. She spun them in her hands, a deft, practiced motion. She was serious about this.

“Whenever you are ready, Master Jin.”

She settled into a low, predatory crouch. Her eyes were narrowed, focused. She was a coiled spring, ready to unleash a lifetime of training and skill.

Jin did not move. He did not adopt a stance. He simply stood there, relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked like he was waiting for a bus.

The fight began.

And it ended.

Clara exploded into motion. She was a flash of black and white, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Her daggers were a silver blur, aimed at his throat and his heart. It was a beautiful, deadly attack.

Jin raised one hand.

He did not move to block. He did not dodge. He simply lifted his index finger.

He met the tip of her lead dagger with the tip of his finger.

There was no sound of impact. No clang of steel on flesh. There was just… a stop. Her entire body, moving with lethal speed and force, came to a dead halt. Her arm was frozen in place, the dagger’s tip pressed harmlessly against his finger. All of her momentum, all of her power, had just vanished into nothing.

Clara’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Her mouth was slightly open. The color drained from her face, leaving her ghost-white. She stared at his finger, then at his calm, unbothered face. She was seeing something that her brain refused to process. It was impossible.

He had not just stopped her. He had nullified her.

With a slight flick of his finger, he sent her staggering backward. She stumbled, catching herself before she could fall. The daggers slipped from her nerveless grasp, clattering to the stone patio.

She stood there, breathing heavily, her mask of composure utterly shattered. She was looking at Jin not as a man, but as a force of nature. An entity so far beyond her comprehension that she could not even begin to understand the gap between them.

The lesson was over.